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Crime Passionnel

The sound of knife on fabric,
Like a jackboot on glass,
Echoed the stroke of impatience
Around the tram terminal,
Where the suspicious eyes of the rum cull
Spotted the perfumed familiar gloss
Of his tragic, unfaithful mistress
In a passel of prospective lovers.
On her face, a blue and purple discolour
As she lay bleeding in the gutter.